LITTLE TRAMP: An Adventure Story

By Tobi Little Deer

A little dog finds himself alone in the vastness of Manhattan after his owner has an accident while they are out for a walk. His two-year journey brings him to familiar neighborhoods and famous landmarks, but also to New York City's more cheerless underside. On the street he meets people in need, and by his companionship becomes an agent of chan

• Language: English
• Publisher: TOBI Books
• Release date: Jan 17, 2014
• ISBN: 9781949596045

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LITTLE TRAMP

An Adventure Story

by

Tobi Little Deer

TOBI Books

New York

This book LITTLE TRAMP is a work of fiction.  All the characters, names, places, business establishments or other organizations, and all the events portrayed in this story are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

TOBI Books

An imprint of Woodwrit, Inc. Editions

LITTLE TRAMP.  Copyright © 2013 by Theodore DuBois.  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever, allowing only for brief quotations in printed reviews. For information, address Woodwrit, Inc. Editions, 135 West 10th Street 11, New York, NY 10014, or email [e-mail].

ISBN: 978-1-949596-04-5

IN MEMORY OF

TRUMAN

THE NOBLEST GERMAN SHEPHERD

AND

MUFFY

DEVOTED LHASA APSO

AND

FONDLY DEDICATED TO

LUCY AND LOLA

CHIHUAHUAS WITH ATTITUDE

With grateful acknowledgement to

Marilyn, Anthony, and David

for their invaluable help.

CONTENTS

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

1. THE ATTACK

2. THE ACCIDENT

3. THE SUPER

4. MACK

5. WORKING THE STREET

6. MADNESS

7. AGNES

8. ON LEASH AGAIN WITH MANY HOMES

9. HEARTBREAK

10. HAPPILY WITH AGNES

11. JENNY

12. THE WHITE DOG AND COMPANY

13. MATHILDE

14. MOLLY

15. FAMILY

16. THE NORTH WOODS

17. ACCIDENTS HAPPEN

18. THE POOL

19. POOR BOY

20. DOCTOR FARLAND

21. MOTHER

22. SUNSHINE

23. KIDNAPPED

24. ANGELA

25. FAMILY DIFFERENCES

26. DOG BAIT

27. THUNDER

28. FIGHT EVENT

29. ANIMAL CONTROL

30. REUNION

31. ABINGTON SQUARE

32. BACK TO THE POOL

33. THOR

34. AND NOW

BE MY FRIEND

1. THE ATTACK

I awoke, pushed my face out of the remains of my homeless home, and discovered that it was daylight, really too late to go about alone.  Without someone to walk with, I’d have to contend with people trying to grab me.

Look at that little dog.  He’s loose!

Seeing my coloring, they’d ask, A German Shepherd puppy?

No, not with those ears, a Chihuahua.  Catch him!

Lately it was more like, Check out that scruffy little stray, and they weren’t trying so hard anymore. It’d been a while, and I looked like I belonged on the city streets.  Still, it was safer to go out after dark.

I was reluctant, too, to leave the warmth I’d created by burrowing into the pile of clothing and soft blankets Agnes had accumulated in the corner of our alleyway, most of them tossed about now.  I’d fled after Mack’s raid, and I wouldn’t have returned at all if I hadn’t gotten so cold wandering outside.  I had nowhere else to go against the chill, and I remembered how warm it was under the blankets with Agnes.  I’ll always remember.  She’d talk to me or to herself until we both fell asleep.  Sometimes I dozed off while she was still speaking.  She talked gently.  So soothing, it was like soft music.

A day had passed since I lost Agnes, and I missed her very much.  Awake, I looked out anxiously and very watchfully, hoping she’d come walking back into the alley, and that Mack wouldn’t.  I was still trembling from his violence, still very upset that I’d been uprooted once again.  It happened so fast, and like every misfortune so unexpectedly.

Agnes and I had just returned from visiting Mathilde uptown, making it back to our alleyway wearily late in the night.  We were used to wandering Manhattan, the two of us, and Agnes was tough, but she was an old lady and very tired after the long walk along the river.  She’d collapsed on our bed of blankets and coats and pulled them over her.  I crawled in beside her as I always did.  We were a good sleeping pair, Agnes and I.

Past the deepest hours, in the lingering darkness not long before dawn, I heard someone at the opening to our alley.  I looked out, and the shadow I saw silhouetted in dim street light sent a shiver down my back and made me growl angrily.  It was mean Mack. He was coming toward us, staggering like a zombie, feeling his way along the wall, so out of his mind he could hardly walk.  I snarled, I barked, I sprang from the blankets and ran around him to get away.  Mack hesitated for only a moment, as if wondering where the sound was coming from.  Standing my ground by the side wall at the alley entrance, braced to escape, I faced back at him.  With fur bristling, I barked furiously to warn Agnes. Mack reached the bulging garbage bags she’d set around our bed.  They held all her possessions we’d collected, and he began ripping them open.

By now Agnes was awake.  She was on her feet, crying out to him, Leave my things alone!  Don’t you touch them!  She grabbed his arm.  He shoved her away, and she fell with a thud, but she had courage.  She reached back and grabbed his leg.  Don’t touch my things! Don’t touch my things!

Get off me! Mack snarled.

Agnes wrapped her arms around Mack’s leg so he couldn’t shake her off, and kept yelling, Help! Help! Help!  Her cries and Mack’s roars were a horrible noise, her screaming, and his bellowing, and my barking all mixed together.  Mack reached down, grabbed Agnes by the throat with one hand, pulled her off him and threw her against the wall.  I remembered when he’d done that to me.  Agnes slumped down into a pile, silent now, not a whimper.  I was so afraid she wouldn’t ever wake up. Mack tore through her bags as fast as he could.

I knew I’d better run, and I did, and I only looked back when I was safely a street away.  Mack came stumbling out of the alley, pushing past the several people attracted by the ruckus.  No one tried to stop him.  He probably didn’t see me, but he was coming in my direction, so I ran.  It wasn’t long before I heard an ambulance in the distance.  I kept going. There weren’t many people on the street at that hour, but those there were looked surprised as I dashed past them, as they always did seeing me free.  I darted in and out, following the curb side—like a fox follows the edge of a field, Ted would say.  I ran fast.  Being a deer-head Chihuahua, I have good running legs, long hind legs that propel me, and I was quick to dodge anyone who reached for me. If I slowed to a trot, some people still tried; but when I galloped, and they’d have to make more effort, they didn’t bother. As soon as I got a chance, I found a hiding place.

It was cold winter.  There’d been some snow. Streets were mostly clear, but the sidewalks were wet with ice-melt, and the air was frigid damp. I hid under a tarp next to a construction site, which protected me from the wind, but not the chill, and soon I was shivering so much that I could hardly breathe.  When I dared to venture out, I stopped on a grating where steam was rising.  It heated me, but got me all wet. I couldn’t stay there, either, because it was out in the open.  I trotted on, ran some, to avoid people and to warm myself.  I thought of Agnes and our bed of blankets, and with no other refuge I returned to our alley.

I found our things scattered all over the place.  Some had fallen in a pile, including a blanket that Mack had tossed against the wall.  I crawled into it.  It didn’t take long for me to start feeling warmer, buried in heavy cloth, and I soon fell asleep.  When I awoke—which is where I began my story—it was daytime.  Warmth and caution won over hunger right then, and I dozed again to wait for nightfall.

By twilight I was too hungry to delay any longer, so I came out from under the blanket, the remnant of my home with Agnes, and headed out.  There still were people on the street, but I could keep out of sight in the shadows.  I trotted down the sidewalk, on the curbside where I couldn’t be trapped, in and out around the tree plantings, like a fox. People were tired at the end of the day, so if I moved fast enough, they didn’t reach for me.  As always, some were surprised and stopped when I ran by.  They looked around to see who had me out off-leash, and by the time they realized there was no one with me, I was gone.

I found half a hamburger that’d fallen over the edge of a trash can, and despite the mustard it tasted so good!  I kept moving, from one corner trash can to the next.  Sometimes there were appetizing smells, whole meals half-eaten in Styrofoam containers, but I couldn’t reach them.  I could only get what’d fallen by the side.  I found a piece of pizza, almost a whole one.  I love pizza.  Keeping an eye on people approaching, I began to eat it right there.  When someone came too close, I ran with it down the street to a shadowed nook and scarfed it down there undisturbed.  After that I felt better.

I trotted on down Seventh Avenue.  I didn’t have to run anymore as it got darker, so long as I remained outside the glare of the streetlights.  When I came to Sheridan Square, I looked across at the bank where I used to go with Ted, and I stopped, because I knew the way home from there so well.  We’d walked it together many times.  It seemed natural to follow it, towards the building where we lived.

2. THE ACCIDENT

My home in New York City with Ted was the only one I’d known.  Now, walking down Grove then Christopher Streets towards it, I quivered with hope as much as from the cold.  It was my most precious memory.  Our Greenwich Village apartment was a warm place in winter, cool in summer.  I had my own little house there set into the bottom of a bedroom bookcase—really a cat house, but it worked fine for a Chihuahua, too.  My bed in it was a pillow covered with a lush sheep fleece, and I spent much of my day there in total luxury.

When I reached Waverly Place, I hesitated for a moment in front of Three Lives Bookstore, looking across at the spot near Julius’ Bar where I lost my comfortable world so suddenly.

Ted and I had just returned earlier that evening from our house at the beach. We had dinner, and then it was time for our walk. I heard Ted say to me, Tobi, let’s go out.  Nothing forewarned me that this short trip around the block would be different from any other.  I rolled onto my back for him to rub my belly.  First, a belly rub.  Then I came out of my house, stretched, and Ted put my harness on me.  He picked me up, and I rode on his arm.  Out the door we went; he locked it behind us. That’s how we always did it.

Ted carried me to Waverly Place, where he set me down.  Why are you always carrying that dog? someone passing by once asked.  I don’t want him doing his business on the sidewalk, Ted told her, and around the corner on Waverly where there’s less traffic, I can take him into the street.

I watched other people lead their dogs to